


Halloween Hijinks

by Tainted_Grace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Neon - Freeform, Party, Porn, Sex, Smut, Stiles Talks Too Much, Werewolf, derek loves it though, kill me now, literally just an excuse for sappy Sterek smut, no seriously fluff during smut, pron, so much fluffy smut, sterek, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tainted_Grace/pseuds/Tainted_Grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek shows up to the Halloween rave in his loft but instead of tossing the DJ’s table half way across the room, he simply steals Stiles away from the dance floor and weasels a confession out of the teen in a way that only he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halloween Hijinks

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting unfinished in my folder for like 4 months so I decided to finish it since Halloween is just around the corner. I didn't have the patience to wait for it to be Beta'd so any and all mistakes are mine. If anything needs fixed just tell me in the comments below. Other than that I hope you enjoy my shameless excuse for Sterek porn.

“Ethan! How the hell did you get Derek to agree to this?!” Stiles yells into the werewolf’s ear over the pounding bass of the music filling the black lit loft.

“I didn’t ask. It’s not like he’s here, right? He’s down in Central America visiting Cora!” Ethan responds, losing interest in explaining his genius plan when he sees his boyfriend walk in the door with Isaac and Allison.

“Whatever. Go get him, E. I’ll talk to you later.” Stiles smiles, winking at the shirtless male covered in fluorescent paint.

“Thanks, Stiles.” Ethan beams, disappearing into the crowd of people dancing in the center of the loft with drinks in their hands and paint glowing on their skin.

Stiles doesn’t respond, simply looking around and taking stock of where everyone is in case some monster decides to attack and he needs to know where the nearest werewolf or  banshee  is. He sees Lydia leaning against a pillar by the spiral stairs in the corner, Aidan leaning over her and trying to get her to dance. Stiles chuckles at the annoyed eye roll she gives the wolf and lets his eyes wander farther. He looks to the left and sees Scott and Kira dancing by the wall, faces close enough to kiss but not quite touching. He sighs, wishing the two would just shag and get it over with so the sexual tension surrounding them would disappear. Isaac and Allison appear next to him, the huntress’s dark plaid shirt missing and replaced with a fluorescent pink sports bra. Isaac’s face is covered in green and yellow paint and Stiles leaves himself a mental note to go get painted at one of the five stations around the loft.

“You aren’t gonna dance?” Isaac asks, voice holding a slightly competitive edge.

“Not right now, no. I’m doing a mental check to see who all I have to babysit.” Stiles shoots back, sarcasm and sass dripping from his voice.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He asks defensively, and Stiles sighs at the chip the wolf still has on his shoulder despite the human’s obvious joking tone.

“It means I wanna know who all I have to look out for if someone decides to attack, seeing as I am basically the only one who is gonna be sober enough to watch out for you all in a few hours. Face it, Lahey, you and little Argent here aren’t just dancing around the obvious thing, you’re leaping around it. Don’t worry about Scott, I can take care of him. Just go, before I just knock your heads together myself.” He says with an eye roll that makes Isaac growl and his eyes flash yellow before Allison puts a hand on his bicep and pulls him away while mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ to Stiles.

He shrugs and continues his mental checklist, finding all of the usual suspects among the crowd. Content with his list, Stiles makes his way to one of the empty paint stations and tells the girl sitting there to do whatever she wants. She ends up making him take his shirt off so she can do an extensive tribal pattern down the length of his spine before doing another pattern on his torso that ends with two thick lines of neon blue running parallel to his v-lines and curling up around his navel like ivy. She continues to smear the blue, green, and yellow paint onto his skin, assuring him that it’ll wash off with his next shower. By the time she’s done, almost half an hour later, Stiles is glowing brightly under the black light and decides to let loose and dance for a bit, completely forgetting his favorite Batman shirt on the stair rail by the girl’s shoulder.

He grabs a cup of beer from the table by the wall before shoving his way between the sweaty bodies and moving to the beat of the bass-heavy song flooding his senses. Once his beer is drained he tosses the cup in the nearest trash bag and continues moving, letting himself get lost in the beat as his hips twist and turn with the music. His eyes close and his arms snake into the air above him as the next song starts to play. He doesn’t recognize the Top 40 song, but it shakes through his bones and sinks into his muscles, making his body move even more, undulating in sensuous waves in the center of the dance floor. Say what you will about his usually spastic movements, but Stiles Stilinski is nothing but grace when it comes to dancing. Thanks to the supernatural occurrences that keep interrupting the school dances, though, he hasn’t really gotten a chance to show off his skills.

A girl from school that he recognizes but can’t seem to place in the low lighting comes up to him and starts dancing with him, her hips moving and twisting with his as she grips onto his shoulders and stares into his hooded eyes with a smirk on her face. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any indication of wanting more than a dance partner, but it doesn’t matter to Stiles. He’s just as fine with dancing with the beautiful girl as he would be rolling around with her between the sheets.

He doesn’t know how he knows, if it’s the sudden cold chill that snakes its way up his spine, or the air heating up around him, or the faint smell of pine and mist, like the smell of the Preserve just before a thunderstorm, but Stiles knows the minute it happens.

All of a sudden the air around Stiles seems supercharged with tension and heat, but it’s coming from behind him, not from the girl in front of him. His muscles all tighten in response, ready for an attack. No attack comes, but a strong hand does wrap around his bare bicep and pull him from the dance floor, dragging him towards the spiral staircase in the corner of the room by the massive wall of windows. He doesn’t turn around to see who it is that’s dragging him; he doesn’t need to.

He knows that attached to that massive hand gripping him tight is a muscled arm. He knows that at the top of the arm is a corded shoulder that leads into a perfectly tapered torso. He knows that at the top of those shoulders is a neck covered in a thin layer of black stubble that gives way to sharp jaw bones and equally sharp cheek bones. He knows that at the bottom of the torso is a pair of sinfully sexy hips that can twist in ways that he could only dream of. He knows everything about the man pulling him along with ease. He knows all of this because he has spent the past four years simultaneously idolizing and hating the werewolf.

Derek drags him up the stairs and away from the party. At the top of the stairs there is a kitchen, which is functional, but not showy, and then a door that leads to the one place in the loft Stiles has never been. Derek unlocks the door with a key he pulls out of thin air and then he’s tossing Stiles into the room and locking the door back. “Hey! Easy on the goods, Hale!”

“Why are there people in my loft?” Derek growls, his voice pinning Stiles to the spot as much as his electric blue Beta eyes do.

“You see, it’s a really long story. And knowing your patience level, you won’t wanna hear it.” Stiles starts and Derek cuts him off with a half-assed growl under his breath.

The teen plops down on the huge king-sized bed that takes up the majority of the space as Derek paces in front of him. He knows he could be getting paint on Derek’s pristine white comforter but he can’t find it in himself to care. The only thing he can spare the brain power to wonder is why the werewolf has a _white_ comforter of all things, since half the time he comes home bloody and dirty. “Just tell me Stiles. Before I lose my patience.”

“Fine, Sourwolf. Damn, you’re grumpy tonight. Okay, so Danny wanted to throw a Halloween party but then Kira gave the entire city a power surge so it got canceled. Then Ethan had the genius idea of using your loft. He knew you would be in Central America visiting Cora – speaking of which why aren’t you a continent away – so he suggested using your place. Aiden got a generator and they set up strips of black lights all around the place. Danny bought all the paint and the twins set everything up after you left yesterday.” Stiles confesses, Derek’s eyes and posture drawing the words from his lips without his consent. If the twins find out he ratted them out he is _so_ dead.

“I’m gonna kill them.” Derek growls and Stiles gulps, the boner he got while dancing with that girl downstairs doing nothing for his concentration. He takes a moment to wonder idly why the erection hasn’t gone down in the presence of Derek’s pissed off expression and then he remembers that any face Derek makes turns him on so it’s pretty much a moot point anyway. When he shifts back a bit to get away from the murderous look in Derek’s eyes his dick rubs against the material of his boxers, causing him to let out a strained mewl that he tries to hide under a groan of annoyance.

Derek’s head snaps to the right, eyes trained on Stiles’ face as his nose twitches and his pupils grow to the size of saucers. “You’re seriously turned on by this?” Derek asks jokingly, genuinely wanting to know the answer under his tough guy attitude.

“Fuck, uh, no. I was dancing with this chick and then you sorta just came in and pulled me away. Boners are kinda hard to get rid of once they’re there.” Stiles groans in fake disgust, trying not to let his heartbeat show how much of a lie he just told to a man with superhuman senses.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Derek nods, voice making it obvious that he doesn’t believe a word that Stiles said.

“This is awkward.” Stiles states after a solid minute of silence with the two of them just staring each other down.

“You never did answer my question, Stiles.” Derek huffs out and the human’s head cocks to the side in confusion, one eyebrow raising.

“What question?”

“Why are there people in my loft?” Derek says steadily, striding closer and closer to the bed with each word.

“I already told you. Ethan was trying to woo his boyfriend. I tend to think he succeeded by the way they were grinding on each other a little while ago.” He rambles, gulping hard when he sees Derek standing at the foot of the bed between his knees. He’s really regretting that second beer now.

“Ethan and Aiden don’t have keys to my loft, Stiles. No one in the pack has a key…” Derek pauses, crossing his arms and leaning forward, causing Stiles to fall onto his back on the bed with his legs spread and hanging off the end of the bed. “Except for you.”

“When a pair of ex-Alphas who can _literally_ morph into a seven foot tall murder machine ask you to unlock a door for them, you tend to say yes, Derek.” He says, his voice sounding breathy and desperate, even to his own ears.

“And if I asked you for something? Would you do it?” Derek hums, slowly rising back up to his full height.

Stiles doesn’t dare move, laying back on the bed with his chest heaving, dick straining, legs shaking. He can see Derek’s jean-clad legs snugged tight between his own legs, just barely avoiding brushing across his thighs and he nearly forgets the werewolf’s question. Luckily his ADHD comes in handy when he has to focus on more than one thing at a time so he takes only a few seconds longer than normal to quirk out a reply. “Like what, Sourwolf?”

“Whatever I happened to ask.” Derek sighs out smoothly and takes a half step closer, the outsides of his thighs brushing against the insides of Stiles’ and making him gulp.

“Honestly?”

“No, Stiles, I want you to lie to me.” He growls, his eyes flashing blue, and Stiles can’t be held responsible for the way his dick jumps in his pants.

“I would pretty much do whatever you asked, man. You haven’t tried to kill me or get me killed recently, so that has to count for something, right?” Stiles says and Derek huffs out a chuckle.

“So your reasoning for doing anything I asked is that I haven’t caused you any bodily harm in some time?” Derek’s mouth lifts into what would be considered a smirk on anyone else’s face.

“… Yeah. I guess so.” Stiles nods, chest still heaving. He can literally feel the tension growing in the air and is terrified to say the wrong thing and set off the proverbial time bomb. “What would you ask?”

“Hypothetically?” Derek asks, to which Stiles nods, giving Derek the okay to continue. “I would ask you to scoot up the bed so your head rests on the pillows.” At the words, Stiles uses his hands and hips to push his way up the bed silently, waiting for Derek’s next ‘hypothetical’ order. “I would ask you to take off your pants, slowly, teasing your ADHD brain with the slowness of it.”

Stiles groans as his hands fly to his pants, working the button free quickly and then remembering Derek’s words. He slows down, as much as he doesn’t want to, and slips the zipper down one tooth at a time until he can feel the pressure of denim lift from his hips. “What else?” He asks, knowing he sounds strung out as he wiggles the jeans down his thighs and off his legs, taking his chucks and socks with the pants.

“I would ask you to touch yourself, to go all the way to the edge and then stop.” Before he can even finish the sentence Stiles is palming at his cock through the thin material of his boxer-briefs, a moan slipping free of his sinful mouth. Derek stays silent as he watches the younger man with wild, hungry eyes.

“Der- Derek, I’m so close.” He pants a few minutes later and Derek can feel himself twitching in his jeans from that voice alone. That voice that has taken over his every wet dream for almost four years.

“Don’t come yet, Stiles.” He orders, voice coming out deep and strained.

He watches the boy cant his hips in frustration, but his hands twist into the comforter to stay away from his dick as he was instructed. Derek feels a sense of satisfaction that he can get the rebellious kid to do what he is being told to for once. “Derek.” He whimpers, voice high and drawn out. “Tell me what else. What else would you ask of me?”

“I would ask you to kiss me. To completely ruin me for anyone else but you.” Derek says on a sigh, knowing that he sounds like he begging more than ordering.

Stiles surges up from the bed and pulls Derek down on top of him by gripping the lapels of his leather jacket and dropping back down. Derek catches himself on his palms but there’s less than an inch between him and the bratty kid he’s too stubborn to admit that he’s in love with and it’s enough to make him grind down again the younger male’s thigh like a bitch in heat.

Stiles doesn’t waste any time in ravishing the wolf’s mouth. He starts with a bruising kiss that steals Derek’s breath and makes his cheeks heat up, and then begins to play dirty. The chaste, closed mouth kiss changes to a sloppy open kiss with more tongues than lips, but neither male can seem to get enough. They push and press and pull and take and give in return, not wanting to pull away from each other for anything longer than sucking in quick little rasps of oxygen.

“God, if you asked me to do anything that you just said as a hypothetical, I am _totally_ down.” Stiles groans, bucking up into Derek’s hip breathlessly.

“Fuck, nothing hypothetical about it Stiles. Now stop fucking talking for five seconds.” Derek orders openly and Stiles chuckles, fingers pushing into Derek’s hair and griping tight, guiding his head down to kiss him filthy.

Ten seconds later Stiles pulls away with a pop, a triumphant grin on his face. “Did I do my job, Der? Are you ruined for all others?”

“Stiles, shut up.” Derek groans, kissing him silent, only to pull back and growl a yes into his ear a few seconds later.

Stiles chuckles into Derek’s open mouth and pushes the wolf’s leather jacket off of his shoulders, making sure that his skin tight t-shirt follows closely after it. His fingers dip into all of the spots that Derek didn’t know he had, finding places that Kate and Jennifer never touched. Stiles spends what could be seconds or hours mapping out all of the hidden places of Derek’s torso. All of the little spots that drive him insane and make him moan and sob with pleasure.

Stiles hooks his leg high up around the back of Derek’s thigh and wraps his hand around his left bicep, the one holding Derek over him. With a quick push of his free hand against Derek’s chest, the two go rolling until Stiles settles with his legs on either side of Derek’s waist, his hands pushing Derek into the mattress. “Now that we’re done walking on egg shells I wanna set a few things straight. And you’re gonna sit back and listen.”

“Can we do the talking bit later? I was kind of hoping to find out if your mouth is as talented as I imagined.” Derek pouts and Stiles pats his cheek teasingly.

“In a second, Der-Bear. First off, I have literally been thinking about this for the better part of high school, so if this is some sick joke you need to tell me now. If you’re going to regret it tell me, because I honestly don’t think I will be able to handle it if you’re just fucking with me right now.” Stiles says and Derek is shocked still by the raw emotion on Stiles’ face.

“Stiles, I have literally had two people use sex as a tool to control me. Never in a million years would I _think_ of putting you through that.” Derek says and it doesn’t sound like the ‘no duh’ that he thought it would. It sounds raw and honest and everything that he wishes he had the nerve to just say. “How could you even think I would be capable of doing that?”

“I- I just thought…” Stiles blushes, knowing that he just said the wrong thing, knowing that he just popped the bubble. He starts to get up only for Derek to pull him back down onto his hips with a scared glint in his eye.

“Please, Stiles.” Derek says and the second Stiles looks into the older man’s bright green eyes he settles back down, relaxing and wondering how he could ever even _think_ Derek could do that to him.

“I’m so sorry! I’m such an _idiot_! I don’t know why you chose me. Why would you _want_ me? I’m just a fuck up! You could’ve had Erica or Lydia or Allison or Kira or _any_ of the women in the entire city with your looks but you chose _me_. Why _me_?” Stiles rambles and Derek smiles up at him like he is the sun.

“Because you’re you. I don’t want anyone else. I want you, fucked up or otherwise.” Derek promises and Stiles’ blush gets even worse, spreading to his ears and chest. “Oh, and I hate to disappoint, but Erica? Lydia? Not really my area.”

“You’re-?” Stiles gawks and Derek pulls him down into a chaste kiss.

“Gay? Yes. Why does that shock you?” He chuckles up at his dim idiot of a lover.

“Because of your history. I mean, Kate, Jennifer, even Paige. They’re all chicks.”

“Exactly. Nothing good comes out of me being with a woman. Plus with men I don’t have to worry about periods or tampons or any of that PMS shit. Double the pleasure, half the worry.” He explains and Stiles thinks about it for a second before shrugging.

“Sounds fair.”

“Are you done talking now? Because I still have another use for your mouth.” Derek winks cheekily.

“Mm, I think I’m done.” Stiles winks, kissing Derek with passion and lust and love.

Before Derek can even think to elaborate on his invitation for Stiles’ mouth to be put to a ‘better use’ the younger male is already licking and sucking and biting a path down Derek’s chest. He sees a frown twist Stiles face slightly when he watches the dark purple bruises quickly yellow and heal in seconds. He shrugs about a second later and continues to try to make a lasting mark on the werewolf.

Derek knows that Stiles won’t succeed. He knows that his supernatural healing prohibits the marks that Stiles wants to leave. And yet he feels suddenly boneless when Stiles bites down harshly on his left hip. A gasp pushes the air from his lungs and then he’s coming in his pants, something he hasn’t done since he was fourteen.

“W-what was that? What the hell did you just do?” He pants, still twitching and panting from the force of his release.

“I read somewhere that wolves like to mark their mate’s on the junction of their left hip. Apparently it carries over to werewolves, too.” Stiles smirks, looking smug as ever, despite the obscene shine of saliva on his lips.

“Wait, how did you know that you’re my-” Derek pants and Stiles shrugs.

“Simple. I’m your anchor. Just like Allison is Isaac’s and Kira is Scott’s and Danny is Ethan’s. You said it yourself, I’m the only person from the pack that has a key to your place. Plus you finally consider me pack, despite my lack of supernaturalness. Its two plus two, Derek.” Stiles sounds so sure of himself as he ruts subconsciously against Derek’s still clothed thigh whiles he speaks.

“Then why didn’t you make a move?”

“Because you’re a stubborn asshole, Derek. You would’ve denied it until you came to turns with it.” Stiles says, still rubbing against Derek’s leg without realizing it.

“You really need to stop talking Stiles.” Derek insists, already hard again in his cum-stained underwear.

Stiles’ eyes bulge and he wastes no time stripping the werewolf out of the remainder of his clothes. His own briefs quickly follow Derek’s to the floor and then he is staring at the beauty that is Derek Hale’s cock. He knew Derek was big, but his imagination didn’t do the man justice by a long shot. Derek’s at least nine inches, his dick curving high against his stomach and begging to be sucked. So that’s what Stiles does.

It takes him less than a second to get Derek in his mouth, and only a second after that to have him moaning in pure ecstasy. Stiles mouth is better than Derek ever could’ve hoped, and he can’t help but buck up into the tight, wet heat. He instantly rushes out an apology, not meaning to choke the man on his dick but the Stiles is chuckling around his shaft, driving him completely insane. “I don’t have a gag reflex, Der. You could face-fuck me and I would probably just ask for more.”

At that mental image Derek nearly comes for a second time, barely managing to hold it back by sheer force of will. “Fuck, Stiles. You can’t just say shit like that!”

“Admit it, Derek. You love my voice. Fuck, I bet you could get off on it.”

“Fuck yes. Yes, yes, yes!” Derek hisses, partially in response to Stiles’ assumption, partially because he has taken Derek back into his mouth and _swallowed_.

Derek has been given head a total of eight times; once by Jennifer, six times by Kate, and now once by Stiles, and there is no comparison. Stiles was _born_ to suck cock.

Derek is pulled out of his own head by his second orgasm blind siding him. He bucks and jerks under Stiles’ careful touch and then he’s coming down Stiles’ throat. Stiles pulls off with an obscene pop and licking him clean before crawling back up his body to kiss him. Derek can taste himself on Stiles and it isn’t gross as he expected. Behind his own taste is the taste of Stiles, and the animal side of him nearly purrs at the fact that Stiles _tastes_ like him now. “Now, I know werewolf refractory periods are practically nonexistent, but could I possible spur your libido on with the offer to fuck me into the mattress?” Stiles asks nonchalantly.

Before he can blink or even breathe, Stiles finds himself with his back on the bed, Derek hovering over him with eyes as black as sin. He can feel just how hard Derek is against the back of his thigh and god does that make his ass ache for it. “You are you goddamn _mouth_!” Derek hisses, saying the last word like a curse.

Before Stiles can open his mouth to respond and get himself or Derek into even more trouble, Derek presses him into a filthy kiss that has them moaning in under thirty seconds. Stiles pulls back to grab Derek’s wrist and yank two of him fingers into his mouth. He sucks and licks the fingers like he had done to Derek’s dick not ten minutes ago, sucking on the digits until they’re practically dripping with his saliva before pulling back and angling his hips up to give Derek room to prep him.

Derek gets the memo immediately, not wasting any time in working both of the fingers into his lover. He wants it to be enough, wants to just push and take and move and grind, but he knows that Stiles needs at least one more finger. He reaches between them and grabs Stiles cock, which is an impressive seven inches, and gathers the pre-cum onto his fingers. He rubs around Stiles’ hole for a few seconds before nudging both of his fingers back in. Less than a minute later he works a third in behind the first two, hearing the puff of air that Stiles lets out.

“Der- Der- You- I need you to- Please! Fuck! God! Do something!” Stiles begs and Derek hopes that he’s done enough, because they both are done waiting.

He lines up with Stiles ass, taking a long, deep breath to steady himself before he plunges into that tight heat. Stiles’ body pulls him in until his hips rest flush against the younger’s ass and it draws noises from his throat that he didn’t know he could make. Stiles is twitching and groaning beneath him, and Derek realizes for the first time that, while he is working towards his third orgasm of the hour, Stiles hasn’t come even once.

He immediately sets to work to remedy that, pulling out slowly only to push back in with a snap of hips. Stiles growls and groans and huffs out his name like a mantra, like it’s the only word he knows. Once Derek hears the way that Stiles says his name, he wants to hear it more. It’s like a drug, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He hold back though, wanting to make Stiles cum first. It doesn’t take him long to find Stiles’ prostate, and not long after that Stiles is huffing and moaning in his ear as he chases his orgasm.

Stiles has been holding off for so long that when he finally comes his vision whites out, spots of black taking over his sight, and his voice is completely stolen from him. His back arches, sending Derek even deeper inside of him. The sight of Stiles coming undone beneath him, coupled with the feeling of his walls clenching around his cock, send Derek over the edge once again as he shoots into his mate’s ass. Just as he climaxes his claws dig into Stiles’ left hip and the smaller man moans and comes all over again.

As the two are coming down, curled up in each other’s arms, Stiles is quiet, just lying in Derek’s embrace and loving the way they fit together like puzzle pieces. When Stiles starts to shiver from the coolness of the room, Derek cradles him in the crook of his arm and slides them both under the covers. He kisses Stiles’ temple softly and rubs at the marks he left on Stiles’ hip apologetically. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Did you miss the part where you marking me made me literally cum immediately?” Stiles asks and Derek chuckles, his breath ghosting over the back of Stiles’ ear.

“It’d be kind of hard to miss anything you do, Stiles.” Derek admits, and Stiles wants to vomit from the sickly sweet words. But he also wants to cuddle Derek to death for them.

“You know what I just realized?” Stiles asks a few minutes later, yawning into Derek’s neck.

“Hm?” The werewolf hums, continuously running his fingers through Stiles’ hair and feeling grateful once again that the human decided to grow it out a bit from the buzz he had in freshman and sophomore year.

“I left my Batman shirt on your staircase.”

Derek laughs and pulls Stiles closer to him, wondering again what it must be like in that man’s head. “We’ll get it after everyone goes home, okay?”

“Mhm. I’m too tired to move.” Stiles nods, nuzzling his face further into Derek’s neck.

“Then go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” Derek promises, rubbing his fingers from Stiles’ hair and down his back to finally rest against his uninjured hip.

“I love you, Sourwolf, whether you know it or not.” He says just before he goes to sleep.

Derek uses his free hand to paw at his ears, wondering if he heard Stiles right or if his mind is playing tricks on him. He decides that either way there’s no harm in saying it now, not now that Stiles knows that he’s his mate. “I love you too, Stiles.”

At those words all of the tension drains from Stiles body and he molds himself to Derek with a blissful smile on his face. Derek follows his lover into sleep knowing that for once he is looking forward to waking up.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaannnd I am officially the worst human being on the planet for writing this. Just feed me to Peter Hale and call it a day! I am sorry for wasting your time with this cracky, smut/fluff fic!
> 
> Please feel free to comment any requests that you want me to try and do! I can't promise that they'll be done in a timely fashion, but I will try to do any and all requests from you lovely people!


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